pride wars with regret
old men march in ranks depleted
medals clink  in time to the town band
children hold grand childrens hands
then the bugler plays
and as the notes fly into silence
old men cry in defience of age
that has wearied
and remembrances of those gone before
they remember more and more
lest we forget ...
sunshines in the bluest of skies
and there is youth once more in tired eyes

stay sane
within the insanity
draw a line in the sand
make it straight, yet flexible
enough to withstand
the  rough winds of argument

watch the sand blow away
still the line remains,
a furrow on the brow.
a burning bridge
beacon to  the too dark night
burning fever, feverbright

stay strong as belief does
becomes ash and ash does
becomes sky, flying forth
as squiggles written on ephemera

stay sane, within the insanity
this brief, brief, briefest time
for once the line is
broken and sundered
and the reality cold, enters in

then the sad, sad, sadness shatters
the snowglobe world within

water on the floorboards
may be tears or not.

glass shards scattered everywhere
and ginger bread house lost

once the ball is broken,
it cannot be retrieved

gliitter once unfrozen
will not be tamed again.

you will find that stuff for decades
and remember the insanity again...

they made me
from a soulful longing,
a sad desperation..
of hopeful reincarnation

they made me
after a birthday celebration
once the wine was drunk
the cake eaten,
the other kids bedded down
they clambered into bed
to make a baby girl

they made me
to replace my oldest sister
born too early, too blue, too still

they made us all to replace her
but the next two, came as boys

so they made me
their last try,
a rhesus baby
requiring three months bed rest,
coming three weeks early
a girl, that solved nothing

when,
they made me
they made hope,
a fragile seed
for a family tree
gloriously completed

but it was not to be
i could not compete
against the phantom branch
whose life mere seconds long
held the potential ,
i could never have achieved

they made me,
i destroyed them....
not with intention
or malice, not with
action or word,
but by being compared
to a figment of a happy time.

by being flesh and blood
with failings and faults

they made me
they hated  me
they loved me
they made me

I love them still...

How to age....

Make a mound of small unexplained aches, with some pains added , for better texture.

Into which you add a wine bottle's worth of memories, be they joyful or not

Add a few cups of reluctance, as many as you can find

A smattering of grace

Defiance to taste...

Liberally add all those confused thoughts

and smidgen or two of:

"When I was young"

Stir with mild anger at what the world is becoming

Set aside to rise....
whilst you go into the other room,
to forget, what you went the for.

Come back and sit a spell, for no particular reason.

Pour mix into a long rectangular box,
one with two slightly clipped corners works best.

Sprinkle the top with copious amounts of bran, but no sugar.

Place into oven,whilst complaining of creaky back or knees, your choice

Cook til well and truly done...so that when poked a snore or snot is produced

Remove from oven,
Do not allow cool, you no longer have time for all that folderol

Ice with tears for those departed, and regret of things left undone ..

Enjoy the fruit of you labour as the sun sets

Drowning the taste of sawdust with a good whiskey...
...and your prescribed
cocktail of tablets...

beware the hermit crab
tucked up aslumber in  it shell
for when you pick him up to
say hello , he may
attach his pincers to your nose

beware the hippopotomus
do not dare tread on his toes
for he may just lean on you
with  little fuss,
then you are flatter
than a bread crust

beware the flamingo
with pink stalk legs
do not ever steal her eggs
for she can run you down
and peck til your blue and brown

beware the seal
the clown of the sea
If you come to close
They may kiss you
on the nose, now
while that sounds quite cute
remember fish is their fruit
and the never brush their teeth
so their kiss has it's own kapow

beware the wee small things
they need to be watched
for in their world they are Kings
and we are clod hopping giants
with no care...so of all other things
beware..be aware .

through the keyhole of your heart
i see the journey you have made
through deserts dry
and mountains ranges
you have travelled,
swimming in blue sea's
and muddy swollen rivers,
sleeping on beahces of sand
so golden it gleams, golden
in the early morning sun

you have laughed in the wilderness,
when there was no one to hear
cried alone and bereft
in cities so crowded, that no one heard
you have walked under
every phase of the  silent, lonely moon
and howled at the world,
your tears have watered
every continent
and your smile brought
warmth to many a cold fire place.

You have bartered,
your money, your life , your soul
and then bought them back for pennies, shekels and zots
only to give them away
to the next traveller
with a mendicant tale....

And you are home....in order to lick your wounds
in order to come to terms with those decisions
that have forshortend your allotted span
and we provide hospice and love and more
for you are our racounter,
our bard our sight
into the faraway,
the unthinkable...
the other side
you are the brave and reckless self,
we wished, we all wanted to be..

so welcome home, friend, welcome
pull up a stool and tell us a tale

as we sit in the shadows and cry at your fate

dog's worn out
so are we
social buttrfly
and social bee
not our schedule,
not our cup of tea
but the golden boygod
has now discovered
the mystery of girl meets
boy ...and then runs away
only to dart back ..."wanna play"

new year new school...needs
new mates..so we opened up
the gates ...
the tuxedo rex
chose discretion, the pup
absolute valour, followed
by adoration of the...***
these little humans will
play with me,  a lot, kind....
whoopee!!!

we made nice with new faces
some wanted to play,
we be the Jones'es races
some played aloof and standoffish
those with aspiring social graces
a few came in all bluster and huff
but with first words called their own bluff
then there were those comfortable
in their skins, those who chatted
and engaged, they were not here to win,
just to meet and greet begin to know
the parent of those with whom,
their kids will grow
those who's kids come first,
those kids all running ragtag
fit to burst with energy and joy
hopefully they are the ones
that the golden god boy
chooses to team up with
for this stage of the game


but when the dust settles
and he makes his way
we will be social with who ever
cause at the end of the day
we have our friends  
made on many such days
our team is big...
if some what greyer
than when we started
his is newer, brighter
and he gets to choose
win or lose..
part of the learning

as for today, all went well
no major meltdowns
no social  hell
just a family  worn down
and tired excepting the cat
who is now inspired
the anti social thing:
to sing  to us the
"song of his people"
in an earsplitting key
and will only stop
for a sardine...or three